Te Quiero
by Sillinae
Summary: When Spain is called to pick up his drunk former colony from a bar, what he doesn't know is that Romano may or may not have been drinking because of him. But it seems like that will probably clear itself up by the end of the night, as well. Fluffy spamano with drunk Romano, oneshot.


A/N: I haven't written a fic in over a year! Hopefully I caught at the mistakes in this one, so please enjoy another result of my obsession with these two haha

—-

"Maldito italiano. Él que consigue bebido tan tarde…"

Spain was usually quite eager to help when Romano called on him. But being asked by the barkeeper who had confiscated Romano's phone to tell Spain to come pick up his incredibly drunk former henchman was a little different.

Not that he was unhappy that _he_ was the one who was called.

But still.

Pulling his car into the bar's parking lot, he could see that Romano's was the only other car there. He'd have to come back for it later, though. Right now, Spain's mission was to retrieve the Italian and get him home.

There was a small bell that chimed as he slid through the door, glancing around the bar. Romano was easy to spot. He was perched on a barstool on the other end of the room, nursing a drink that was probably one in a series of far too many. The barkeeper was eyeing him, and looked visibly relieved when he noticed Spain's arrival.

Romano did not echo this sentiment.

When _he_ turned to spot Spain, his features twisted into a scowl. His face was flushed, although whether from alcohol or irritation it could not be said.

"What are you doing here?" He spat, his words slurring together in his mouth. He turned to the barkeeper, his eyes narrowing. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Spain jumped in, wanting to spare the poor man behind the bar. "I'm here to take you home, Roma. You've had too much to drink." He stepped forward towards Romano, offering a hand. But Romano practically recoiled, his face reddening further.

"I don't want to go home."

The barkeeper, unwisely, tried to speak up. "You'd best go home, let your friend here help you…" This only turned Romano back to him, anger blazing in his eyes.

" _I don't want to go home_." He repeated through gritted teeth. "I don't want your _or_ his help. I don't want to see him! Why the hell would I be here if I wanted to see him?"

It was silent in the bar for a moment as Spain felt his heart drop a little at the words. He should brush it off. Romano said things like that all the time, although Spain was certain that he didn't always mean them. But maybe he'd hoped for drunk Romano to be less… sharp.

"Let's go, Roma." He said gently after a moment, reaching for Romano's arm. He was surprisingly met with little resistance as Romano slid off the stool with a small noise of complaint. The barkeeper looked on, shooting Spain a slightly pitying look that he ignored.

The lack of resistance changed as he led Romano out to the car. Verbally, at least. Romano's scowl was still firmly in place as he twisted his head to glare up at Spain.

"Why do you always ruin things?" He slurred, brows furrowing. Spain ignored the question, fishing in his pocket for his keys as they approached the car. Romano continued. "First you get me drunk, then _you_ of all people show up, and I can't even drink anymore…" He threw the arm that wasn't hooked over Spain's shoulder up in defeat. Spain shook his head, urging Romano into the car and shutting the door before going around to the driver's side.

"I didn't get you drunk. You did that all by yourself." He murmured absently as he started the car, not playing close attention.

"It's your fault I'm drunk! So you got me drunk!" Romano argued.

"I didn't do anything to make you drink so much, Roma."

"You always make me want to drink a lot!"

This sent a pang through Spain. He ignored it, beginning to pull out of the parking lot. It was probably best to ignore Romano when he was so drunk, anyways.

"Why aren't you mad?"

Romano's voice was suddenly quiet, confused even. Spain glanced at him, bewildered.

"What?"

"Why aren't you mad?" Romano repeated. "I haven't said a single kind thing to you. Why don't you get mad?"

This was not a line of questioning that Spain expected. He looked forward again. There were many ways he could answer that question. However, he simply pressed his lips tightly together. "You don't make me angry."

"That's not a proper answer." Romano protested, crossing his arms and sinking down in the seat. "Everyone else gets mad. Why do they get angry and you don't?"

"You know why."

This managed to shut up Romano for a few moments. He turned his head away to stare out the window. Spain had told him he loved him. The way he threw it around, someone would think they were a couple. But Romano vehemently denied such things. He was silent for several more moments before he spoke again. "You make me want to drink a lot." He repeated, although his voice was more strained than before, quiet even in the silent car.

The silence that followed lasted the whole way home. Romano shifted uncomfortably every once in a while, and Spain said nothing. Even as Spain led Romano out of the car and up the steps and through the house, nothing was said.

It wasn't until Spain was practically free to return to sleep that it continued. He was half helping and half dumping Romano into bed, before switching the light off and going for the door. "Buenas noches, Romano." He whispered. "Te quiero."

He almost didn't hear Romano's small reply.

"Don't say that."

He turned, confused again. "Don't say what?"

"T-te quiero. Don't say that."

Spain frowned, stepping back to the bed. "Why? It's true."

Romano stared up at him, the earlier hostility gone. The expression that had replaced it was to difficult for Spain to name.

"I'm drunk but it doesn't help." He whispered hoarsely. "Isn't it supposed to help?"

Spain sat down on the end of the bed, his frown deepening. "Romano…" He shook his head. "I don't understand. Help what?"

"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid…" Romano muttered, looking away. He was beginning to sound strained again.

"Lovino, please-" The human name slipped from Spain's mouth without thought, and Romano's expression tightened. And suddenly without warning, Spain felt a sharp twist in his gut as Romano let out a small sob. He pulled his knees up, hiding his face in his elbows as he obviously tried to stop.

"Ah! Romano, please, I don't know…" He scooted closer, reaching out with one hand as he trailed off. Romano swatted half-heartedly at the hand, but quickly gave up.

"You never fucking know!" He wasn't fighting Spain's hand anymore, and when he went to pull him into his lap he was met with a startling absence of protest. "You're an idiot." Romano just turned his head into Spain's chest, probably more to hide his face than for any comfort. "Why do you have to always be such a fucking blockhead?" He choked into Spain's shirt. "A-Antonio, Antonio-"

Spain looked down at him, eyes wide and completely unsure of what to do. Romano was shaking and muttering against his chest. And using his human name. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around him, pressing his lips to his hair. "It's okay, there's no reason to cry." He murmured. "Te quiero, Lovino, I don't understand…"

Romano fought against him again for a moment when he spoke. "No. Stop! Stop saying that!" He ducked his head, squirming and trying to escape Spain's arms again. Spain held on firmly, grimacing as several dirty punches landed on him. "Stop, or I'm going to believe you! I don't believe you!" He suddenly went slack again, slumping down and staring at his hands as if they had betrayed him. "I-I don't believe you." He whispered.

"Te quiero, Lovino." Spain repeated firmly, tightening his grip. "Why on earth would you not believe me? Te quiero, te quiero mucho."

Romano was stock still for a moment, his eyes still glued to his hands. "You don't get angry at me." He said finally. "I'm absolute shit to you. You don't get mad. You don't leave. You tell me you love me." He was becoming more and more quiet, and the last words sounded difficult for him to say. There was another long pause. "Please don't go." Barely a whisper.

"I'm not going."

"Why?"

"Te quiero."

Romano stiffened again, but didn't fight him. "Be quiet."

"… Alright."

There was not a sound for several long minutes. Romano's mouth had twisted into a conflicted grimace, but he looked to be thinking on something. Spain wondered in the back of his mind if he had actually fallen asleep when he spoke again. "Are you sure?" His voice was slurring even worse now, and Spain decided that maybe he /had/ drifted off for a moment.

"Am I sure of what?"

"That you love me."

Antonio stared down at him in disbelief. "I have never been so sure of anything in my life."

Romano grimaced. "Why do you always say things like that?"

"Like what?

"Things that make me want to believe you."

"Because you should believe me. It's the truth. Why are you asking so many questions tonight?"

Romano's grimace shifted back into a scowl. "Because I'm drunk." He muttered, turning away. "… and I'm trying to decide."

Spain tilted his head slightly, curiosity flooding him. "Decide what?"

Romano's voice was small and unsure, barely understandable through his slur.

"If I should tell you that I love you."

Spain had to bite back a noise of surprise, feeling heat creep across the back of his neck. He tried to formulate a response, but found his mind completely blank. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he trusted himself to speak. "You should wait until you're sure to decide."

"Oh, I'm sure." Romano seemed increasingly out of it as the conversation progressed. Otherwise he would probably never dream of saying these things. "I'm just deciding whether you should know." His eyes were half closed, his voice soft.

Spain had never felt more awake. Even if the words alone where not enough to jolt him, the spark of electricity that they sent blazing through his chest was more than enough. But he kept his voice low.

"I think you should tell."

Romano's eyes had closed completely, and Spain wondered if he had fallen asleep for a moment. But then a small mumble drifted up. "Hnng." He twisted in Spain's lap, burying his face in his shirt again. "I'll tell you." The slur was muffled into his chest. "I love you. But don't tell Antonio. Or he'll never stop saying te quiero."

He was so drunk. The garbled confession was more than enough to split Spain's face in a wide smile, however. "I'm never going to stop, anyways, Lovino. Te quiero, tambien."

It was quiet in the dark room for a long while. But Spain managed to catch the last thing Romano said before he passed out.

"Good."


End file.
